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THE PRELUDES 



A COLLECTION OF POEMS 



BY EUGENE LLES. ^^ 



" Nuper sollicifcuni quae mihi toedium, 
Nunc desiderium, curaque non levia, 
Interfusa nitentes. 
Vitea oequora Cjcladas " 

Horace, U. L.. L XI' 



I'UBLISHED BY C. L. MAC ARTHUR, 

No. 1 Nassau, Corner ok Wall Street, 

FOR KAI, K AT TUE PRINCIPAL BOOK STORKS 



1846. 



M^ cO, J--^ ^'-/ ^^-^^^^^ 




\- 



r 

^ 






[Entered, according to Act of Oongress, in the year 1846, by 

EUGENE LIES, 
In the (Klerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.] 



i '^ f 



I 






TO JOHN GREIG OGDEN, 

AS A SMALL TOKEN OF INFINITE REGARD, THL^ 
BOOK IS INSCRIBED 

By THE Author. 



iPKiE iPosiT^g iDmmAm. 



I DREAMT I wander'd in a fairy bower, 

JewelPd with all the painted things that grow, 

And, on my way, full many a queenly flower 
I pass'd, but heeded not for all its glow. 

So many beauties gather'd in that spot, 
My aching sense grew dull, and, gazing, I saw not. 

I turn'd me from them, languid and oppress'd : 
And, from the dazzling splendor of the sight 

Seeking relief, my eye at last did rest 
Upon a rose-bush, autumn rifled quite 

Of all its summer glories — all, save one — 
One virgin, ling'ring bud, that blush'd there all alone. 

It blush'd there all alone, 'mid em'rald sheen 

Hid like a violet ; its conscious pride. 
Half check'd for youthful shame at being seen, 
With tinge of maiden coyness deep had dyed 
Those fair lips, demi-parted to receive 
The farewell kiss of Sol, — the tears of dewy eve. 

Al 



6 THE POETS DREAM. 

It was the sweetest promise of a rose 

The morn e'er gave to bribe the bnlbul's strain ; 
The loveliest bride the feather'd bard e'er chose 
From all the fragrant daughters of the plain, 
And woo'd, when else all slnmber'd in the grove, 
Fond watcher of the stars, with thrilling notes of love. 

My ruthless hand (unhid, I swear 't,) did grasp 

The tempting prize, when lo ! it found a voice : 
" What wouldst thou with a harmless flow'r ? why 
clasp, 
•' With selfish passion, one whose modest choice 
" Were here to hide from ev'ry human eye, 
" And on her parent stem to bloom, and fade, and die 1 

" Nay, tempt me not with promis'd praise and fame, 
" I could but deck thy lady's hair an hour ; 

" For, let this fitful bloom desert my frame, 
" And she will spurn me for another flower. 

" Such is the fate attends all things below, [glow. 
" Whose only charm is youth, and youth's too transient 

^' Yet, wouldst thou save me from the world's neglect, 

" And shrine me in the memories of men, 
" Then watch the hour when Autuimi^ winds have 
wreck'd 
" The beauty that now chains thy sense ; and then 
" Gather and treasure well the precious spoils. 
•< They own a spirit that will threefold repay thy toils. 



THE POET'S DREAM. 

" Fame waits on patient vigil !" * * * * I awoke, 
And fancied that I read my dream aright, 

Though heedless of the solemn truth it spoke ; 
For, since, in visions of the day and night, 

I've wandered oft, and in my wayward course. 
The wildlings of the earth I pluck'd without remorse. 

I pluck'd them for their sweetness, though I knew 
It was the sweetness of a little hour ; 

I pluck'd them for their fragrance, and though few 
Outliv'd the day that saw them in my power, 

These have I woven into a modest wreath, 
To live or die, as chance decrees them life or death. 



A FRAGMENT 



Alas !, deserted Pindus sees no more^ 
Around its sacred summits, as of yore, 
Gather th' Olympian throng. The God of Light 
Urges no more, in their etherial flight, 
His panting coursers ; Jove's own dreaded thunder. 
Robb'd of its awe and of its mystic wonder 
By daring Genius, spares the child of Art, 
Whose weak hand trifles with its forked dart. 

No Demigod, his urn in hand, presides 
At each clear river's birth ; the streamlet glides 
A^s fresh and wanton through the yielding green. 
Bin yet more sadly woos the rural scene, 
And vainly seeks, where silence broods alone, 
Its tutelar Naiads now forever gone. 



FAITH. A FRAGMENT. W 

The waves yet dash against the echoing rock, 
Or die upon the pebbly beach, and mock 
The startled ear with their perpetual dirge ; 
But still the many voices of the surge, 
Its distant roar, its sadness-breathing sighs. 
More plaintive yet and melancholy rise, — 
A wail for its departed Nereids. 

No sudden fear of lurking Satyr bids 
The traveller start, when moans the ev'ning breeze, 
At each strange murmur through the forest trees ; 
Bereft its playful Fauns, each sylvan maze 
Untenanted, bathes in the twilight haze ; 
And, widowed twice, the lone voice of the grove 
Now mourns its Nymph, as Echo mourn'd her love. 

This world, grown wise with age, has cast away 
Those errors of a younger, brighter da}?-, 
As man, adulted, spurns the gilded toys 
That long had fed his boyhood's humbler joys. 

And Truth now reigns ! Yes, thus the conq'ror reigns, 
O'er smould'ring ruins and fire-scathed remains — 
Who drives, triumphant, his victorious car 
Through streets made desert by the curse of war,. 
And wipes his. sword, and waves his blood-stain'd hand; 



10 FAITH. — A FRAGMEJJT. 

And then proelaims, " Peace reigneth in the land f 
Well may he boast — it is the peace of death ! 

Greece wore the crown of Arts, as long as PAiTii 
In her poetic Gods upheld the hand 
That guided Praxiteles' magic wand ; 
And she was Virtue's birth place, Freedom's homey 
As long as, gazing at the starry dome, 
Fond superstition saw there, not the page 
Science interprets to this learned age, 
But azure fields, where immortality 
Rewarded those who died for Liberty. 

A light came from the East ; a God, 'twas said. 
Had trod the Earth in human form, and shed 
From his own guileless vein th' atoning blood, 
In mystic sacrifice for man to God, 
Himself that God ! The Hellen's ardent mind. 
Pleased: at the novel theme, rejoiced to find 
A path untrod, an unexplored sea, 
Open to Logic's subtle devotee. 
Oh ! that, with pure simplicity of heart, 
Those favor'd sons of Poesy and Art 
Had listen'd to the teachings of that law, 
Nor ventured, in the sanctuary, to draw 
The mystic veil th' Eternal's hand had thrown 
O'er what he will'd should yet remain unknown. 



FAITH. A FRAGMENT. 11 

But busy Sophistry would not permit 
One sacred word of heaven-dictated writ 
To go without its tomes of sage comment, 
Frivolous gloss, and pond'rous argument ; 
Till, through the maz.es of their trifling lore, 
Faith lost her way, and wander'd more and more^ 
And sank, by rhetor's specious skill beset, 
And Byzance fell, whilst doctors argued yet. 

There blooms, in sunny climes, a fairy land, 
Where partial Nature's fondly liberal hand 
Hath lavish'd all her richest gifts — hath thrown 
Her choicest treasures — as a dazzling crown 
Of beauty and of loveliness ; where rays 
Of far more genial warmth illume the days, 
Where cooler zephyrs murmur in the night, 
W^afting their scented music to delight 
List'ning creation ; where the human mind 
Boasts powers more lofty, instincts more refined. 
And yet, profaners of those gifts sublime, 
Th' unworthy children of that happy clime 
Bow to the stranger, and dare not be free ! 
Italia ! oh, I long once more to see 
That rich land of the great, the fair, the brave, 
Those temples, whose huge ruins seem the grave 
Of her past greatness, and that fertile soil, 
A constant aim to foes, a happy spoil 
To some, a burying-groimd to mighty swarms 



12 FAITH.- — A FRAGMENT. 

Of bold invaders, whom the tempting charms 
Of this, their promised-land, drew from afar 
Thither, as towards some south-attracting star. 
ItaUa ! Lovely yet, though great no more, 
When shaU the mighty spirit, which of yore 
Watched o'er thy wondrous destinies, awake 
Thy children's dormant energies, and shake 
Thy sunny hills with Freedom's joyous cry ? 
When shall ye dare " to conquer or to die," 
Degenerate sons of Romulus ? Frowns not 
Indignant, from yon doubly hallowed spot 
His arm had freed, his blood now sanctifies, 
Rienzi's mighty shadow ? Once more rise, 
United rise, and shake your vile repose ; 
And, strong in union, hurl th' inglorious foes 
Back to their frosty homes again ! . . . . But why 
Appeal to slaves, when vainly, thund'ring by. 
Echoed the gallic hymn, when Harold's strain 
Was heard in Freedom's cause, and heard in vain ? 

I've passed where Harold dwelt, and trac'd his course, 
His book in hand, to the poetic source 
Of ancient lore ; saluted many a spot, 
But for his magic verse, unknown, forgot ; 
Hailed Stamboul's minaras, and kissed the wave, 
The wave of Sestos, bold Leander's grave. 

And when, a weary traveller, again 
I saw, majestic o'er th' expanding main, 



FAITH. A FRAGMENT. 13 

Rise thy fair shores, Italia, with dehght 

My glad heart wildly bounding at the sight, 

I hailed thee — as Ion g-partedio vers greet 

Each other, who had thought ne'er more to meet — 

With outstretched arms ; and in thy fairy clime, 

Though homeward bound, I lingered for a time, 

Searching the scattered records of thy fame, 

And ev'ry fragment of thy giant frame : 

Interrogating marble, parchment, books. 

Grim statues in their consecrated nooks, 

Relics which once adorned, but shame thee now, 

And which, without a blush, thy children show. 

As courtesans their charms, for gold to all. 

Of these I asked the secret of ihy fall ; 

And from each Avitness I had thus evoked, 

From crumbling battlements witli ivy yoked, 

From high Soracte's ever sullen brow, 

That frowned on infant Rome, as on us now, 

From dust of cities, and from secular stone, 

The same voice rose and answered, " Faith is gone !" 

For, know it mortals, whether based on error, 
Or sternest truth, or love, or hope, or terror. 
Strong Faith, when free from damp'ning doubt, incites 
Your hearts to greatest deeds, and ever writes 
Your names, with brightest letters, on the page 
Which hist'ry hands down to each wond'ring age. 
It is the one conceded point. It rests, 
Unwav'ring 'mid the conflict of your breasts, 

IB 



14 FAITH. A FRAGMENT. 

The northern star, the never failing pole. 
Which draws th' obedient magnet of the soul ; 
Tiie beacon which, though tempests rend the air, 
Through night's drear darkness shines forever there. 



Why howls the distant main ? Why swells the tide 
With ominous voice ? The quicken'd flashes ride 
From cloud to cloud, and make succeeding night 
More murky with their fitful glare of light. 
Hark ! 'tis the coming tempest's warning threat ; 
Anon the waves, by adverse winds beset. 
Writhe as in agony ; their huge crests bending, 
In fiercest shapes, Uke living things contending. 
Again the winds are hushed in dull repose, 
Deceitful as the panther's sudden pause 
Before a deadly leap ; and now, with speed 
Outrunning in its course the flame-winged steed 
His own fleet lightning rides — he comes ! he comes ! 
The Spirit of the Storm ! the lashed sea foams, 
Its surface yielding, as the gale howls past, 
A tortured calm beneath the stronger blast. 

Darker upon the billows' foaming field,* 
What was that shade yon brighter flash revealed 1 

,^See Plate of the Nigiit Storm.) 



FAITH. A FRAGMENT. 15 



A petrel, on the liquid mountain's crest, 
Hiding, as if the wave-top were his nest, 
The sea his home, his element the gale 1 
Another flash — it is, it is a sail ! 



And such a night ! Bathed in the lurid glare, 
Forbidden spirits revel in the air 
Uncheck'd, and, with their dismal howlings, mak^ 
The deep foundations of the mountains quake. 

And yet, fear not, ye anxious friends on shore, 
Eagerly Hst'ning to the tempest's roar ; 
And thou, in tearful worship knelt, fear not, 
Poor weping partner of the sailor's lot. 
Trust in the mariner's skill ; that buoyant bark 
Will safely reach the shelter'd bay ; for mark : 
Deep-rooted in the solid rock, upright. 
Yon stone-framed giant sentinels the night ; 
And lifting up his tow'ring head on high, 
Beacons the sailor with his glaring eye. 



That sea is Time, on whose storm -furrowed space, 
The keels of nations print a fleeting trace ; 
Those storms, which, sent to renovate by strife 
In dormant waves the properties of life^ 
With wholesome tortures vex the panting deep, 



16 FAITH. A FRAGMENT. 

Are revolutions and fierce wars, that sweep 
Betimes on thunder-wings athwart the land. 
Sent upon earth, by some mysterious hand, 
To wake the slumb'ring energies of men. 

'T is then, while mists are gath'ring o'er the main, 
While storms are spreading darkness o'er the sky, 
And in one mass confounding to the eye. 
Earth, heaven and air, the ocean and the shore. 
And with loud cries the spirits of discord soar, 
Like famished vultures, eager for their prey ; 
And, when at last has come the fatal day, 
When human skill and calculations fail 
To right the ship of state, thrown by the gale 
Upon her leeward beams, her yards and mast 
All riv'n, her sails all shiver'd by the blast, 
'T is then the trembling pilot scans the night. 
Eagerly watching for the guiding light 
That yet might save the bark ; oh ! yes, 'tis then 
That all instinctively the minds of men, 
Fatigued with doubts, discussions, specious dreams, 
And selfish politicians' stillborn schemes. 
Turn unto Faith, the Faith of former years, 
As if, amid so many doubts and fears. 
They felt the need of some conceded thing, 
Some settled point, not open to the din 
And clamor of debate, but sanctified, 
And raised above the passion's stormy tide^ 
Something to trust, to follow^ to adore. 



FAITH. A FRAGMENT. 17 

Then shame to him who, safe himself on shore, 
Would quench one spark of that celestial flame, 
To earn an Erostrates^ impious fame, 
Or plunder what the spurning waves might throw, 
After the tempest, on the beach below, 
From the lost vessel that his hand had wreck'd. 
And shame to you, whom Providence has deck'd 
With sacerdotal honors, that you may 
Over that beacon watch by night and day ; 
Shame, if you sleep beside your trust, or worse, 
If, in saint speeches and devout converse, 
You waste the needful hour, while fainter glows 
The flame you should protect, and scarcely knows — 
Such flick'ring lights your vagrant lanterns show — 
The erring bark whither to bend her prow. 



b2 



tmi& n§i[.AM® iEi®mii 



(These stanzas have been set to Mugic by Mr. H. S. Saroni.J 



Girt by the bounding river's foani, 

Sweel Island Home, 
Green be thy shades, and o'er thy bowers, 

Light speed the hours. 
And winter, if its chilly blast 

Must come at last, 
Deal gently with a spot so fair, 

My heart is there ! 

Full many a prouder isle Iv'e seen, 

A gem of green, 
Set in the sunlit ocean's fold, 

Of living gold. 
But when the fays of the high cascade 

Their rainbows spread, 
And deck their river isle with care, 

More beauty's there. 



THE ISLAND HOME. 19 

For, with the tears of morn and eve, 

They deftly weave 
An archway o'er the waterfall ; 

And then with all 
Their azure tints and purple dyes, 

Robbed from the skies, 
Paint the gay fabric, to declare 

Their presence there. 

Oft by thy mansion's stately pile, 

Sweet river isle, 
Is heard the lover's timid lay, 

At close of day. 
Say, does thy queen, with smiles as sweet. 

All off 'rings greet, 
Or is my voice and fav'rite air 

Remember'd there ? 

Say, does she wander forth alone^ 

At early dawn, 
Where the wild waters dance along 

With merry song ? 
Or to her vine-encircled bower, 

At vesper hour, 
Does she, with lute in hand, repair, 

And wish me there ? 

If fondest wishes had the pow'r 
To sway the hour, 



A MADRIGAL. 

The brief, sad hour of toil and strife^ 

A mortal's life, 
Forth to that river-isle I'd fly, 

If but to die, 
For o'er my grave an angel there 

Would kneel in prayer. 



A SflAroiEItiAlL, 



iT ran slated from, the Freccb. of Francis I.) 

By yonder easement as I stood alone, 

Early one day, to watch the morning's dawn, 

Aurora's beauteous form I chanc'd to spy 

As, stretching forth her fingers tipp'd with light, 
To marshal Phoebus on his pathway bright, 
With purple hues shejinged the eastern sky. 
But looking back, I saw my lady fair, 
Binding in simple knot her golden hair ; 
And then I cried, "3^0 deathless deities ! 
" Oh keep the sun-gilt azure of your skies, 
" Your blazing orbs, your bright Elysian fields, 
" Their beauty to terrestrial beauty yields !" 



Tiaii (sniPSY m ipisi iiomTiH. 



WRITTEN FOR MQSrO. 



[Music has been composed for these words by H. S. Saroni, Esq.] 

On the dreary beach of a polar land, 
Where the cold sea breaks on a colder strand, 
A poor gipsy lad 
Stood alone and sad, 
And his young limbs shook, as the gale howl'd past, 
And his wan frame shiver'd. 
And his pale lips quiver'd. 
As he sigh'd his plaint to the icy blast. 

" Oh my lovely, sunny Spain, 
Mem'ry turns to thee again, 
To thy groves of orange trees, 
'Mid whose shades the vesper breeze, 
Laden with the sighs of ocean. 
Loves to rest his listless motion, 
Hov'ring in the scented air. 
Loath to leave a land so fair. 



22 THE GIPSY IN THE NORTH. 

" Relentless blast, speed o'er the ocean's foam, 
And boar a friendless wand'rer's blessing home ; 
B^ar my last farewell to my native plain, 
If aught so bleak as thou can reach the clime of Spain ! 

" 1 could bear, though young, to die ! 
If beneath my native sky ! 
Friendship there would shed a tear, 
Pity kneel beside my bier, 
Gentle hands would press my mothers, 
And my sisters and my brothers, 
Sorrowful each morn would come. 
Flowers to scatter o'ei' my tomb ! 

" But 'tis hard to die in a foreign land, 

And I feel the grasp of the fiend's cold hand, 

And my spirit sinks, 

Though, alas ! it shrinks 
Fnrn a tombless grave on a lonely strand, 

Where the dismal wave 

Hamits the gloomy cave ! 
Oh ! 'tis hard to die in a foreign land !" 



A ¥AaiilMTI[MIg» 



TO MISS G. 1(. H. 



A.SK not th' aspiring flame tc seek the grouni ; 
Ask not the sear'd leaf to be fresh again, 

The stringless lute to sound, 
Nor me to strike the lover's senseless strain. 

There was a time I could have graced the theme, 
And shed the tear, and heav'd the votive sigh. 

And praised the watchet beam 
That revels wanton in thy laughing eye, 

With not unworthy verse ; that time is gone, 
All dead within me is the kindling spark, 

All chilled my heart, and lone, 
Lone as the night, as cheerless and as dark. 

Oh ! think how chill'd ; for I have gazed on thee, 
Unmoved, nor felt the quicken'd pulse beat warm, 

W hen fell thine eyes on me, 
Nor yielded, fair enchantress, to the charm 

Wliich all must own ! Yet hear th' atoning vow ; 
If beauty, circling, like a dazzling crown, 



24 A MADRIGAL. 

A maiden's angel brow. 
Could move my heart, that heart were all thine own. 

Forgive then, if I lay not at thy feet — 
Unworthy off 'ring to so fair a shrine — 

False flatt'ry's dainty sweet j 
I am thy friend, but not thy Valentine. 



N 



ADDRESSED TO DIANE DE POITIERS, 



(\From. the 'French of ClemeDt Marot.) 



If to be Phoebus often I desire, 
^is not to own his health-imparting lore ; 

Ne leech his skill, ne wizard's magic store 
Of herbs and drugs can quench the lover's fire ; 

'Tis not athwart the pathless heavens to move, 
And wield the godly archer's silver bow, 
And shed his showers of life and light below ; 
Of all his attributes, I covet now 

One onl} — fair Diana's love. 



26 



ON THE FIRST PAGE OF AN ALBUM, 



What images this book ? its leaves 
Unstain'd yet by the scribbler's rhyme, 

So pure and white, that while I write, 
I feel as guilty of a crime. 

But sooij, by beauty's power inspired. 

Each page, now mute, will breathe an air 

The lover's sigh, the flatt'rer's lie, 

The hero's praise, the maiden's prayer. 

And tuneful to thy pensive hour, 
Each leaf will whisper in thine ear 

Carols of gladness, lays of sadness, 
Songs of love, of hope and fear. 

Thus thy young heart ; as yet a blank. 
Save where the idle dreams of youth 

Some lines have traced to be effaced 
In after life by sterner Truth. 

cl 



26 ANGEL WHOSE BRIGHT IMAGE. 

Too soon that album will be filled, 
Experience will on every leaf, 

Harsh lessons set, which never yet 
Avail'd the learner aught but grief. 

But whilst there's room for lighter things. 
Permit me, 'tis my fondest claim. 

In some spare nook of that sweet book. 
As here I do — to write my name. 



AMdffilLi WIEKDOT IMdEf IMAflS. 



(These stanzas have been set to Music by Mr. H. S. Saroni. Tjiey are a 
free version of a French Romance.] 



Angel whose bright image 

1 recall in vain, 
Blue eyed angel listen 

To my tearful strain. 
When, in lonely brightness, 

Glows the ev'ning star, 
Love, on Mem'ry's pinion. 

Speeds to you afar. 



ANGEL WHOSE BRIGHT IMAGE. . 27 

Nature e'en has borrowed 

Loveliness from you ; 
Azure waves have taken 

From your eyes their hue. 
If the streamlet murmur 

O'er some pebbly bar, 
Faintly it re-echoes 

Your voice from afar. 



Nightly when I slumber 

Th' angel form appears. 
Fondly then I whisper 

Mingled hopes and fears. 
But I wake all lonely, 

As the morning star 
Calls the angel vision 

To its its home afar, 



28 



AW A(BIS®^1I"Ii:(B, 



E YES ! sunlit eyes ! why, in your melting rays, 

V ibrates my soul's responsive harmony ? 
E ven as Memnon greeted once the day's 
L ong sigh'd for God, with mystic melody, 

Y ielding, 'tis said a thrilling hymn of praise, 
N ow faint, now swelling proudly to the sky ! 

R ipe, rosy lips, what magic spell is yours ? 

G uhl's proudest bloom, in Kashmeer's fairy bowers, 

R ivall'd by you, would hail a sister fair, 

A nd own your breath the sweetest fragrance there. 

N ow let me be the tuneful bird who sighs, 

N ightly, his love-notes to that new blown rose. 

I will, while slumb'ring in her pride she lies, 

S weet kisses steal from her repose. 



29 



A SUffiSif AIDIi 



WRITTEN FOR MUSIC 



[A sweet and appropriate melody has been* composed for {his piece by 
Eugene Plunkett, Esq,.] 

Love, the charmer, lures me, 

At night's silent hour. 
Minstrel-like to Avander, 

Near thy fairy bower. 
Rest, while angel visions, 

Hov'ring round thee, keep 
Bright watch o'er thy slumbers, 

Fairest, dearest, sleep. 

But if music tempt thee 

From thy bower to stray, 
Come, my bark shall bear thee 

O'er the moonlit bay. 
Gentle gales shall fan thee, 

While afar we roam, 
Gentle waves shall murmur, 

Fairestj dearest, come. 



c2 



30 



AWAEB YEmU, AWAEB. 



A SERENADE. 

Awake thee, awake, 'tis a fair summer night. 
The shadows He still in the moon's hazy light ; 
All hushed is the night breeze, all silent the grove. 

All slumbers save love. 
The nightingale's song o'er the rose tree yet hovers. 

The lake's bubbling ripples sigh faint as they break, 
Then dearest, since midnight 's the noon time of lovers, 

Awakee thee, awake thee, awake. 

Awake thee, awake, there is love in the gale 
That kisses the slumbering flowers in the vale ; 
All nature around us, below and above, 

Is teeming with love. 
Earth smiles through the thin veil of darkness, that 
covers 
Her sweet face with mystery's mantle, to make 
Its beauties thus shrouded more sacred to lovers, 
Then dearest, awake thee, awake. 



31 

WMffilf f EGW'lf AWAY. 

WRITTEN FOR MUSIC. 

Oh ! leave me not. 

When thou'rt away 
The sweetest spot 

Cheers not my sight, 
The brightest day, 
When thou'rt away, 
Is dark and gloomy as the night. 

Each joy that thrills my bosom now 

Turns into grief when thou'rt away, 
As lone, I trace, with pensive brow, 

The mem'ries of a happier day. 
Thy fav'rite air, remember'd well. 
Thy smile, on which I lov'd to dwell, 
With gaze deep tranced in the spell. 

They wring my heart when thou'rt away. 
Oh ! leave me not, (fcc. 

Thy fav'rite haunt delights me not, 

When thou'rt not there to roam with me ; 

The spirit warden of the spot 
Forsakes his trust to follow thee. 

I seek, as wont, thy chosen bowers. 

To while away the tedious hours, 

But wonder why those drooping flow'rs 
Once seem'd so beautiful to me. 

Oh ! leave me not, (fcc. 



32 



ffMffi swssre m SAiw ii^s, 



AN IMPROMPTU. 

Joys of the hour of sadness on my heart 
Have left a trace no lighter things can blot ; 

For there is, e'en in sorrow's keenest smart, 
A joy subdued which Pleasure knoweth not. 

Death's own embrace, perhaps, at last may bring 

A balm deep hidden in his ghastly wing. 

List to the many voices of the night, 

The mournfullest is still the sweetest one ; 

The streamlet bubbling in its wayward flighty 
There lurks a sadness in its playful moan ; 

And he, the wizard of the oracular grove, 

How thrilling, but how sad his hymn of love. 

Mirth's fitful voice, though sweet at times to hear, 
But chains the sense and leaves the spirit whole ; 

Whilst sadder strains own spells that trance the ear. 
And deeper reaching, rend the inmost soul. 

Grief has an echo in that secret cell 

That's often wak'd and knows his duty well. 



33 

WRITTEN FOR MUSIC, 
[These stanzas have been set to Music by Mr. Eugene Plunkbtt 

When first we met, in happy youth, 
Unschooled in Ufe's stern ways, 

What sunny dyes, 

Before our eyes, 
Bright fancy spread o'er coming days. 

We Uttle knew 

Each fitful hue 
Would fade and darken, as the light 

Of youth and mirth, 

Which gave it birth. 
Withdrew its magic from our sight. 

Look back— where are the flowers that cheer'd 
Our morning with their bloom 1 

They're dead, they're gone, 

We two alone 
Are left to mourn their early doom. 

Earth was not meet 

For aught so sweet 
In cheerless exile long to stay. 

The fairest things 

Bright morning brings 
Are ever first to fade away. 



34 



PARROLES CHANT:6eS All JOUR DF, NOEL, 184-, PAR LES ENFANT^! 

1)E LA PAROISSE DE ST. V DE P. EN L'HONNEUR 0E M. CUr6 

l)V. CETTE PAROISSE. 



Gloire aux vertus qui se cachent dans Pombre ! 
Gloire aux bienfaits dont Dieu seul salt le nombre ! 
Honneur^ honneur 
A Dotre bon pasteur, 
Prions, enfants, le ciel ponr son bonheur. 

Tout a la fois notre ami, notre pere, 

Pour parler aux petils enfants 

II sait adoucir les accents 
De cette voix qui, du haut de la chaire, 
Porte reffroi dans le ccEur des mechants., 
Notre Seigneur lui donna cet exemple 
liOrsqu'il s'assit sur les marches du temple 

Pour caresser sur ses genoux 
Des enfants comme nous. 



35 



S T A HI IB (D) If ]L . 



MEDITATION DUSOIR. 



Yoici I'heure ou du haut des minarets sans nomrbre 
Q,ue montre avec orgueil la cite des sultans, 

La voix du muezzin, plus sonore dans I'ombre, 
Aux prieres du soir invite les croyans. 

<nlu'elle est belle a Stamboul cette heure de pensee, 
De doux recueillement, de silence et d'espoir ! 

Heure ou Fame s'endort, de doux reves bercee, 
C'est I'heure des amants, la belle heure du soir. 

Yoyez ! Chrysopolis a I'occident en flamme 
Presente le niiroir que lui vaiut son nom ; 

Le Bosphore a ses pieds vient colorer sa lame 
Aux dernieres lueurs qui teignent I'horizoUc 

Ecoutez ! les cypres que le zephyr etlieure 

En lugubres accords se plaignent dans la uuit ; 

On dirait une voix qui gemit et qui pleure, 
Ou le dernier soupir d'une ame qui s'enfuit ? 



36 STAMBOUL. 

Ce silence et ces bruits, eette mer calme et pnre, 
Get air tout surcharge de parfum, de langueur, 

Ge beau ciel toujours bleu, cette molle nature, 
Tout enerve a la fois le corps, I'ame et le coeur. 

Oui ce sera toujours une terre d'esclaves ; 

Lorsque I'homme est heureux il ne sait qu'obeir ; 
Le bonh^ur, le plaisir nous forgent des entraves 

Qu'on ne saurait briser et qu'on ne peut que fuir. 



SEVENTEEN SELECTIONS 



FROM THK flRST BOOK OF TH* 



ODES OF HORACE 



ODE 



f® HiKBMAg 



Thou issue of time-honored kings, 

O thou my pride and fondest trust, 
Some love, around their rapid car, 

To dash in clouds th' Olympic dusi. 
And in their flight, with fervid wheels, 

To graze, unharmed, the limit stone, 
And, victors, feel that, deified, 

Their souls all earthly clogs disowii. 
One from th' inconstant forum's throng 

Struggles to win the wreath of power ; 
Another hoards, with jealous cart , 

Glad harvests from the Lybian s}Ka>-. 
Fond lovers of their rural toils, 

But fearful of the briny foam. 
Some would not dare the narrowest sunii 

Of sea for all the wealth of Rome. 
d1 



38 TO M^CENAS. 

E'en on a Cyprian vessel's deck. 

When fiercely Afric's burning wind 
Ploughs up th' Icarian main, appall'd^ 

The merchant oft recalls to mind 
The leisures of a city life, 

The cool shades of his country place ; 
But soon, spurr'd on by poverty, 

Refits his ships new storms to face. 
There are who quaff old Massicum, 

Nor scorn to spend half of the day, 
Now stretched beneath some verdant shade^ 

And now where sacred waters play. 
Grateful to many in the camp 

The sound of clarions, and the strife 
Which mothers dread. The hunter oft. 

Forgetful of his tender wife. 
Will brave the chilly dews of ev'n, 

When yelps, a deer in sight, the pack ^ 
Or when, to 'venge his broken nets, 

He follows on some wild boar's track. 
But I — crowned with the ivy wreath 

Which learned heads delight to wear- 
Commingle with the gods : I seek 

Some cool, secluded woodland, where 
Light-footed Nymphs and Satyrs gay 

Dance, guided by Euterpe's flute, 
While Polyhymnia strikes the strings, 

The sweet strings of the Lesbian lute. 



TO AUGUSTUS C^SAR. 39 



If thou among the lyric bards 

Wilt but insert my name, such praise 
From thee would to the very skies 

My laurelPd head in triumph raise. 



ODE II. 



^® AWitsrsi'isri (SiSSAm 



Has Jupiter to this unhappy land 
Sent snows and hail enough, and with his hand, 
Whose red bolts levelPd many a sacred dome, 
Sufficient terror spread in Rome ? 

The trembling nations deemed that age returned 
When o'er unwonted wonders Pyrrha mourned, 
When, to the summit of the highest rocks, 
Proteus did urge his sea-born flocks. 

Then fishes hung entangled in the boughs 
Of elms, where doves had sung their golden vows 
And trembling deer stemm'd the invading main, 
Whose waves o'erflowed their native plain. 

We saw the Tiber, from th' Etruscan side, 
Turn madly back his dark alluvial tide, 



40 TO AUGUSTUS CiESAR, 

And hf'adloDg sweep in one destructive doom 
Gi-eat Vesta's fane and Numa's tomb, 

'f'j soothe bis waibng bride, he fiercely vows 
Signal revenge, and swehing, overflows 
T;je Latin shore, and braves the wrath of Jove, 
Fond Uiver-God, for Iha's love. 

Or iO]is shall hear that Roman bosoms bled 
''; .> -i A-^ords that should the Persian's blood have shed ; 
Onr wars they'll learn, and to our crimes will trace 
The lessen'd immbers of their race. 

or ill the i^ods whom shall the nation call 

'Vo -save the sinking state? With what prayers shall 

The holy mrnds importune Vesta's ear, 

Wlip.n scarce she deigns their voice to hear ? 

(}}) I \vhoj)Ji, to expiate our guilt away, 
Sfjal) Jnpitor appoint ? Come thou, we pray, 
OiHcular Appollo, come and shroud 

Tliy dazzling shoulders in a cloud. 

(Jr, smiling A^enus, if that thou wilt deign, 

Oh ! come, with Love and Mirth, thy hov'jing train ; 

Or if on thy neglected kin and race. 

Father, thou'lt turn at last thy face, 



TO AUGUSTUS C^SAR. 41 

Have we not sated thy stern passion, thou 
Who lov'st the war-cry and the Hght-hehn'd brow, 
And the flash which the sight of bleeding enemies 
Lights in the Marsian warrior's eyes ? 

Or, if in youthful incarnation here 

Sweet Maia's winged son thou dost appear, 

Caesar's avenger, if of such a name 

Thou wilt submit to bear the fame, 

Long, long may'st thou thy heavenward flight delay^ 
And long among the Romans love to stay, 
Nor wing the breeze to waft thee from our climes, 
Indignant at the Nation's crimes. 

Enjoy the pomp of glorious triumphs here ; 
Of Prince and Father hold the title dear ; 
Nor let the Parthian squadrons scour the plain 
Unpunish'd, Caesar, in thy reign. 



d2 



42 



ODE IV. 



Harsh Winter relents, sighing Spring glads the earth ; 

On their rollers our ships seek the waters again ; 
The herds leave their stables, the ploughman his hearth. 

Hoar frosts print no more their pale tracks on the 
plain. 

Now Venus, at Luna's high noon, leads her choirs ; 

Hand in hand with the Nymphs, the sweet Three 
strike the heath 
With footsteps alterne, while the ponderous fires 

Of the Cyclops are kindled at Vulcan's hot breath. 

Now with myrtle let's fasten our hair's glowing locks, 
Or with flow'rets, the first that Spring wakes in the 
glade ; 

Now to Faunus let's offer the choice of our flocks, 
A lamb or a kid in the woodland's deep shade. 

Pale death alike visits the monarch's proud towers 
And the lowliest hovel ; brief life has no room, 

Happy Sestius, for Hope's boundless range. Darkness 
lowers, 
And the wildlings of Fancy that tenant her gloom, 



TO PYRRHA. 43~ 

And Pluto's sad dwelling are nigh. There, no more 
For the throne of wine's kingdom the dice thou shalt 
throw, 

Nor that fair boy admire, whom the maids will adore 
Ere long, and for whom manly bosoms now glow. 



ODE V. 



f® 



Who is that youth so well perfiuned, so slender, 
With roses crowned, so pressing and so tender, 

In yonder pleasant spot. 
Pyrrha, for whom thy hair in golden knot 

Thou bindest thus with artful artlessness? 
Alas ! how oft he'll weep thy fciithlessness, 

And Fortune's low'ring brow, 
And wonder at the tide's waked wrath, who now 

Thy golden calm enjoys, and hopes to find 
His mistress ever constant, loving, kind ! 

As yet he little knows 
How changeful are the skies ; ah ! wo to those 

Who trust thy beauty ; I— the sacred wall 
Where hangs my votive record shows to all 

That to great Neptune's shrine 
I offer'd up my garments wet with brine. 



44 

ODE X 



Grandson of Atlas, thou whose winning words 
To early mankind's rude, unsettled herds, 
With lofty teachings of the gymnic art, 
The first refinements did impart, 

Olympian messenger, my song inspire. 
Thou, the inventor of the curved lyre, 
So skilful thou, adroitly to conceal 

What'er thy fancy bids thee steal. 

One day Appollo, from thy infant fears, 
Floped to recover his abducted steers ; 
And sought, with threats, to frighten thee, a child, 
But found his quiver gone, and smiled. 

By thee from Troy rich Priam safe was led, 
When near the fierce Atrides' tents he sped 
Unseen, and near the watchfires in whose light 
Slumber'd the foes of Ilium's might. 

Thou the good spirits to their blissful land — 
Guiding their light crowd with thy golden wand- 
Dost lead, thus grateful in thy ministries, 
To hell's and heaven's divinities. 



45 

ODE XI. 

T® ]LlS¥(B®II®lllo 

Seek not to know, Leuconoe — 'tis a forbidden lore — 

How many days have granted us the Gods ; consult no 
more 

The Babylonian numbers ; no, await and bear tlie end, 

Whether through many Winters more the Gods thy 
life extend, 

Or that this one, whose angry storms now lash the 
rock-bound seas, 

Should prove thy last. Seek wisdom, and decant thy 
wines, and cease 

To waste brief life in endless hopings ; while we speak, 
Time plies 

His envious wing. Enjoy to-day, nor trust to-mor- 
row's rise. 

ODE XII. 



T® AWi'ffSffWS 



What Demigod, what hero shall inspire, 
Cho, thy shrill-toned trumpet or thy lyre 
With glory's strain ? Of all the Gods, whose name 
Shall Echo's joyous voice proclaim 



46 TO AUGUSTUS. 

'Mid shades that gird the Helicon around, 
On Pindus, or on Hsernus winter bound, 
Whence forests in confusion to the plain 
Were led by Orpheus' magic strain ? 

Son of the Muse, heir of his mother's skill. 
The rivers' lapse he could suspend at will. 
And stay the winds ; so sweet his luring string. 
The oaks would follow listening. 

First to the Father his accustomed praise : 
Great arbiter of men and gods, he sways 
Oceans and land, and from on high deals forth 
The varied Seasons to the earth. 

Nothing can equal or aspire to be 
Near to, far less above his majesty ; 
But next to him great Pallas well may claim 
The poet's tribute to her fame. 

Thee, warlike Bacchus, I will sing, and thee 
The forest-rovers' beauteous ememy. 
And thee Appollo, whose far-dreaded bow 
Speeds certain death to ev'ry foe. 

Alcides too, and Lada's twins, the one 
Unrivall'd gymnist, whilst his brother won 
The palm of horsemanship ; scarce beams on high 
Their glittering star, when suddenly 



TO AUGUSTUS. 47 

Down from the rocks flows back the billow's spray, 
The winds are hushed, the clouds dispersed away ; 
The threat'ning main — for such their potent will — 
In its own depths lies calm and still. 

But next ? shall Romulus engross my strain ? 
Shall I record Pompilius' peaceful reign, 
The pomp in which delighted Tarquin's pride. 
Or Cato's noble suicide ? 

Regulus and the Scauri, yes and he 
Whose mighty soul fled rather than to see 
The Carthaginian's triumph ; these I fain 
Would celebrate with loftiest strain. 

Fabricius too, the rugged Curius, and 
Camillus, nurtured on the modest land 
Where stood their parent roof, in poverty 
Prepared themselves for victory. 

Like as a tree whose age time only knows, 
Marcellus' fame luxuriant ever grows ; 
The Julian star with brightest radiance gleaming : 
A moon 'mid lesser planets beaming. 

Father and guardian of the human kind, 
Issue of Saturn, thou by Fate assigned 
To watch o'er Caesar's glorious destiny. 
Reign thou through Caesar's ministry. 



48 TO THE REPUBLIC. 

Whether he drive, in well earn'd triumph home, 
Captive those Parthiaiis who now threaten Rome, 
Or those far nations v.hom the rising day 
First visits, !et his righteous sway 

To thine inferior rule the earth afar ; 
Thou, shake Olympus with thy pond'rous car ; 
Thou, the dread hghtning hurl that never spares 
The sacred groves where Lust repairs. 



ODE XIV. 



Thou bark, and must thou, seaward bent again. 
New billows ride ? Take heed, remain, remain, 

Where safety abides : 
Oh look ! no rowers man thy naked sides ; 

Africa's winged gales have riv'u thy mast ; 

How thy yards moan ! If not rope-bound and fast, 

Vessels can scarce sustain 
The growing fury of the angry mahi. 

Thy sails in fragments flutter in the air; 
No God will hst thy supplicating prayer. 

Though pine of Pontic fame 
Thy parent forest yielded for thy frame, 



To GLYCERA. 49 

Vainly thoa'lt boast thy name and noble race ; 
In painted sterns the trembHng sailors place 

No faith If not decreed 
To be the sport of winds, be warn'd, take heed ' 

Once weary partner of thy dangers, I 

Now gaze on thee with sad and anxious eye. 

Mayst thou avoid those seas. 
Whose waves divide the Siiining Cyclades. 

ODE XIX. 



Thou Cupid's cruel mother, 
And thou, bold Bacchus, ye awaken 

In me the lust of passions 
And loves my soul had quite forsaken. 

I love Glycera's whiteness, 

More splendid than the Parian hue: 

I love her winning boldness, 
Her face so dangerous to view. 

To conquer me has Venus 
Left Cyprus, she forbids my muse 

To sing of distant Scythians, 
Or flying Parthian s' dreaded ruse. 

Or aught but her dominion. 
Then bring fresh turf, incense and wine; 

We may appease the Goddess 
By off 'ring incense on her shrine. 

El 



50 

ODE XX. 



f® ffiiSElKASo 



Vile Sabine thou shalt drink, in modest cup, 
A wine that I in Grecian jars closed up. 
What day the theatre's assembled crowd 
Thee greeted with applause so loud, 

Maecenas dear, pride of th' equestrian ranks, 
That the parental river's hollow banks, 
And Vatican's deep echoes, made the sound 
With sympathetic glee rebound. 

Thine the Coecubian nectar, or the wine 
Which Gales' presses yield — but ne'er the vine 
Of rich Falerna or the Formian hills 
Its treasures to my cup distils. 



ODE XXI. 



m M©M®m ©IF WUAWA AMI AIP®3LIL®c 



Young virgins, praise the goddess of the chase ; 
Young men, praise Phoebus' ever youthful face ; 

Your voices all unite 
To sing Latona Jupiter's delight. 



TO FUSCUS. 51 

Praise Dian, who, so fond of streams and groves 
On Algidus' cool summits strays, and loves 

Dark Erymanthus' shades 
And lofty Cragus' green, mysterious glades. 

You, Tempe sing, the favorite abode. 
And Delos sea-rock'd cradle of the God — 

The God whose shoulders fair 
The lyre, his brother's gift, and quiver bear. 

Propitiate him, that he may keep us free 
From Pestilence and Famine's misery, 

From war and all its woes. 
And hurl them all 'gainst Caesar's distant foes. 



ODE XXII. 



No, Fuscus, no — protected by a heart 
Virgin of crime, nor bow, nor moorish dart, 
Nor quiver full of deadly poison'd reeds. 
The steady friend of Virtue needs, 

Whether his path through Syrte's sands he seeks, 

Or Caucasus' inhospitable peaks. 

Or in that land of vision and of dream. 

Where flows Hydaspes' wooing stream. 



5^ TO CHLOE. 

For — as; with songs of Lalage and love, 
Careless, I wander'd in the Sabine grove 
Too far — I met a wolf, who, at my sight, 
Defenceless as I was, took flight. 

SLich prodigy ne'er Daunia's warlike land 
In her wild forests fed ; ne'er did the sand 
Of iion-breeding Africa beget 

The equal of that monster yet. 

Place me in lifeless regions, where no trees 
Witli waving umbrage woo the summer breeze, 
E'en oil that side of earth which heaven's doom 
Hath shrouded in perennial gloom, 

Place me in deserts, where from nearest skies 
Sol's rays descend, love-treasur'd memories 
Of Lalage's sweet voice and sweeter smile 
Would still my sufterings beguile, 



ODE XXlU, 

You shun me, Chloe, thus the fawn that strays, 
Seeking her dam through mountain's pathless maze,. 

Deems in her vain alarm. 
Each breeze and tree portends some boding harm. 



TO VIRGIL. 53 

At each light vine-leaf which the softest breath 
Upturns, at every bush that bends beneath 

Some painted lizard's tread, 
Her heart and sinews shake with sudden dread. 

Why, as the desert rovers seek their prey, 
I seek thee not thy limbs to tear. Away 

Then, to thy mother cling 
No more, 'tis love should guide thy budding Spring. 



ODE XXIV. 



Why would false pride restrain the tears that flow 
In mem'ry of a friend so dear ? Come, thou 
Melpomene, thy saddest strains inspire. 
Muse of the liquid voice and tuneful lyre. 

'Tis true then, in th' eternal sleep of Death 
Q^uintilius lies ; twin sisters. Justice, Faith, 
And you bright Honor, robeless Truth, how long 
You'll seek his equal in the human throng ! 

The tears of all the friends of virtue flow ; 
Thine own, dear Virgil, wrung by heart-felt woe ; 
Yainly thy prayers would bid the gods return 
That friend whose lot, alas ! was not eterne. 

e2 



54 TO LYDIA. 

Though, softer than the Thracian bard's, thy strain 
Should move the forest trees, 'twere all in vain ; 
No pulse would e'er that form reanimate 
Whose spirit — relentless minister of Pate — 

Mercury once hath smitten with his wand 
And gather'd to dark Pluto's shadowy band. 
Stern Fate ! Patience^ thy softening influence lend^. 
Teach us to bear those ills we cannot mend. 



ODE XXV, 

'Tis seldom now thy lover's ardent knock 
Shakes thy closed lattice ; yes, their noisy flock 
Respecis thy slumbers now ; thy silent dooi" 
Clings to the threshold more and more, 

That once so oft on easy hinges roll'd ; 
And less and less thou hear'st the lay of old : 
*' This long, long night with love Pm dying here, 
" And thou, thou sleepest, Lydia dear." 

Too old, soon, ev'n for vilest passion's heat, 
Thou shalt stand weeping in some lonely street. 



THE POET TO HIS LYRE. 55 

Shiv'ring— while fearful gusts on their way sweep 
To moonless revels on the deep. 

Then, on thy galled heart Lust's foul desires 
Will prey, and Passion — even such as fires 
The blood of brutes infuriate— oh then 
How bitterly thou shalt complain 

That Youth, glad Youth should verdant ivy wear^ 
Or myrtle's darker freshness still prefer, 
While, to such zephyrs as the Winter mates 
Withal, sear'd leaves it dedicates. 



ODE XXXII 



TiHii ip®ii^ m nans ilyetIc 



They bid me sing ; if e'er, beneath the shade, 
Upon thy strings in idle hours I've play'd. 
Respond, a latin song, and one that Rome 
Shall not forget in years to come. 

Since to the warlike Lesbian thou didst yield 
Thy first born strains, who, in the tented field, 



56 THE POET TO HIS YOUNG SLAVE. 

Or when his ocean-batter'd ship at last 

To the moist strand he had made fast^ 

Of Bacchus and the Nine found time to sing. 
Of VenuSj and the boy that loves to cling 
To her side ever, and of Lycus fair. 
With raven eyes and raven hair, 

O Lyre, thou pride of Phoebus, and delight 
Of Jove's own banquets, thou who makest light 
The heavy load of care, with accents sweet 
Thy poet's invocation greet. 

ODE XXXVIIL 



I HATE, my child, these Persian luxuries ; 
I hate these garlands, with their linden ties ; 
Forbear to seek then in what spot yet glows 
In tardy bloom some ling'ring rose. 

Then simple myrtle, nought beside, I pray, 
Well it becomes thine office, well it may 
My brow adorn, as drinking, I recline 
Beneath this thick and shady vine. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



The Poet's Dream pahk 5 

Faith — A Fragment 8 

The Island Home 18 

A Madrigal 20 

The Gipsy in the North 21 

A Valentine ?3 

A Madrigal 24 

Lines on the First Page of an Album 25 

Angel whoi:e bright image, &c 26 

An Acrostic 2R 

Awake thee, awake, ..... • : -29 

A Serenade ...,,, , . , . ,...,,.,.,.,,........,,.. 30 

The Sweets of Sadness ..,..,. .31 

When thou'rt away...,...,.,.,.... ., 32 

Remembrance . , ....,.,.,,.. , . , 33 

Chant Religieux , , , 34 

Stamboul... ,...„..., 35 

Odes prom Horace. 

To Maecenas. ....,, .......,.,..,. ..37 

To Augustus Caesar ,......,.,..., 39 

To Sestius , , .... 42 

To Py rrh:i . ..,..,, ,.....,.,.,....,- 43 



Iviii 



To Mercury 44 

To Leuconoe ..45 

To Augustus ..45 

To the Republic 48 

To Glycera 49 

To Msecenas. 50 

In Honor of Diana and Apollo ..50 

To Ftiscus 51 

ToChloe 52 

To Virgil 53 

To Lydia.... .54 

The Poet to his Lyre 55 

The Poet to his young Slave 56 



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